Piper Day's Ultimate Guide To Avoiding George Clooney

by Vanessa Fewings

  My stomach flipped with excitement.

  This was the very first day of my new job, and in celebration I was wearing my brand new navy blue scrubs bought especially for today.

  The first time I’d discovered there were real nurses on a studio lot was during a public tour, soon after arriving in L.A. Ellie had insisted on showing me around town and no introduction would have been complete, or so she’d told me, without visiting the most famous of studios.

  We’d gotten onto the tour for free thanks to our guide John, who was an actor friend of Ellie’s. We’d joined the other ten eager tourists on our passenger golf cart with John at the wheel, expertly navigating between the enormous stages.

  John’s knowledge of movie making history had been impressive, as was his familiarity with each site we paused at, which revealed his passion. He’d enthusiastically shown us the locations where some of Tinseltown’s most famous legends had filmed, stars such as Carey Grant, Marlene Dietrich, Mae West, and later Marilyn Monroe and Alfred Hitchcock.

  John even added smaller, lesser known details, like how the studio’s gates had to be heightened due to Rudolph Valentino’s obsessive fans climbing over them to get closer to their favorite actor.

  We’d all sat in silence listening to his romantic interpretation of the studio’s past. From him we’d learned that not only was Gemstone home to many of the current shows on television, but it was like a small city with its own up-scale restaurant, cafe, a dry cleaners, hair salon, florist, a childcare center, and even had several theatres.

  What I really remembered most about that day was when John had parked right in front of Gemstone’s medical department, and in his perfectly rehearsed monologue informed us that both the interior and exterior of the building had been featured in quite a few films over the years. This wasn’t merely a facade but was a real facility offering medical care to all of the employees and any visitors to the lot.

  “It’s like a mini hospital in there,” John told us. “It’s one of the oldest buildings at Gemstone.”

  As he drove our tour cart away, I’d gazed back, wondering what it took to become a studio nurse.

  Later that day when I’d returned home, I’d phoned the studio’s medical department to inquire about possible employment. Natalie Harper, the senior nurse, had invited me in for an interview. Apparently the experience I’d gained at the University of Wisconsin’s ER made me an ideal candidate.

  Although I’d enjoyed my years working in the hospital, and thrived during those busy nightshifts, I’d not anticipated the emotional effects of those grueling twelve hour shifts. I’d not only provided expert care but also discovered the ability to shove food into my mouth at an alarming rate on few and far between breaks, as well mastering the art of scheduling in short restroom visits. Within those starkly-lit corridors I’d seen another side of life, witnessed firsthand the consequences of when the human condition failed, and I’d wholeheartedly supported my patients through their suffering.

  Those hospital privacy curtains may have hidden the sights but never the sounds of what went on behind them. Very often I’d still be thinking of my patients weeks after I’d cared for them. If there was an ability for a nurse to put up a wall and deal with any tragedy stone-faced and unaffected, I’d never developed that skill.

  Although I’d not yet joined the ranks of the thousands of burned out nurses, I was ready for a change.

  My interview with Natalie had gone well and soon after I’d received a letter of confirmation that my application had been successful. I’d got the job.

  My future beckoned with the promise of exciting new adventures as a studio nurse, and as I slowly navigated my Beetle toward Gemstone’s guard gate, I found comfort in how right it felt.

  I buzzed down my window.

  “ID?” The middle-aged, blue uniformed guard said in a tone reflecting that, for him, this was an ordinary morning.

  I read his name badge. “Hi Stan,” I said, reaching into my purse to withdraw my driver’s license. “I’m the new nurse.”

  Stan’s face lit up as he took it from me. “Welcome to Gemstone, Piper!” He stepped back into the guard box and punched away on his computer keyboard.

  There came the faint sound of printing. He reappeared with a map of the lot and handed it to me. “The medical department’s right there.” Stan gestured to his left. “Park over there.”

  The metal arm lifted and I drove along the tree lined avenue, passing the beautifully sculptured bushes leading the way into the parking lot.

  Sipping my latte, the one I’d picked up on the way, I followed the map.

  The place was buzzing with employees all seemingly having to be somewhere by the way they scurried in all directions, artfully dodging the golf carts that sped by, not to mention the props being lugged from one location to another. I stepped aside, avoiding collision with two employees rolling along what looked like an enormous space pod.

  Strolling down a walkway marked on the map as the paseo, I admired the art deco style of the numerous buildings, all of them named after a famous actor or an apparent individual who’d left their mark on the industry.

  I took a seat on one of several park benches along the walkway and sipped my coffee.

  I’d gotten to love California weather. Even its winter was mild compared to Madison’s harsh seasons, and I’d grown fond of the abundant palm trees, which Gemstone had plenty of. The perfectly manicured greenery gave the place an earthy feel.

  I saw myself being happy here and was excited to settle in so I too could carry an air of confident familiarity like the other employees.

  My iPhone pinged and I read the text from Ellie: “Wishing you a great first day! I’m thinking of you!”

  It made me smile.

  “May I?” came a man’s voice.

  A few feet away stood a smartly dressed, eighty-year-old gentleman.

  I gestured to the spot beside me.

  “It’s rather a tradition,” he said, taking a seat. “I have my tea here every morning.”

  “Oh,” I said, “Hope I’m not in your way?” I motioned I could leave.

  “Heavens no. Your company’s most welcome.” He removed a pastry from a paper bag and offered me some.

  I declined with a wave and a smile of thanks.

  “Tea and a pastry, perfect start to the day,” he said.

  “What a delicious tradition,” I said.

  “Now, I know every face on the lot.” He turned to me. “Yours is new.”

  “I’m the studio’s new nurse.”

  “Not an extra then?” he said. “You can never be certain in this place.”

  “Nope, I’m the real deal. If I so much as glance at a camera I get a rash.”

  He chuckled and blew onto his tea before taking another sip.

  “I’m Piper, by the way.”

  “Arthur.”

  “It’s my first day actually,” I admitted.

  “Well you’re looking awfully calm. That’s a good way to start a new job, with confidence.”

  “Do you work here?”

  “Yes. Started working here when I was nine as an office boy.”

  “Very young.”

  “Back then, in the dark ages, we started young.” He threw me a smile. “I’m the...caretaker.”

  “I imagine you’ve seen lots of changes.”

  “This studio’s transformed completely from its humble beginnings. It’s almost one hundred years old, you know.”

  I marveled at what he must have seen over the years, from the development of the lot itself, to the changing fashions, and even the way people spoke with one another. Arthur had lived through two world wars, as well as Vietnam, and he’d even witnessed man’s first moon landing in 1969.

  Arthur leaned back with one long leg crossed over another, poised with an old-Hollywood charm about him. Perhaps it was the way he dressed, or maybe it was merely due to his self-assured composure.

  He reminded me of my grandpa, and I looked
forward to getting to know him better and perhaps even hearing some of his stories.

  Several tall, pretty blonde women strolled by, all with strikingly similar looks.

  “Auditioning.” Arthur gestured to them. “Casting agents send in certain types similar in weight, height, hair, and eye color.”

  “They’re all auditioning for the same part?”

  He gave a nod. “Look at their faces, all hopeful, all believing in the dream.”

  “Good for them,” I said, admiring their ambition. “My friend Ellie’s an actress. She has an agent and she’s acted in a horror film already. They had her standing around all day covered in fake blood, waiting to say her one line.”

  “It’s a remarkable career if you make it.” He gave a reassuring nod. “Or that’s what Elizabeth told me.”

  “Hey Arthur,” one of the blondes called out to him. “Thought you’d retired?”

  His eyes narrowed as he tracked one of the look-alikes. “Audition?”

  She pursued her lips in response. “Don’t say it.”

  “Good luck!” he called out to her.

  The young woman paused and frowned back at him. “Last time you said that I didn’t get the part, Arthur.”

  “Ah.”

  “You keep sabotaging my performances,” she said.

  “With superstition?” Arthur looked surprised. “Sure it wasn’t down to your talent?”

  She folded her arms across her chest, her steely, pale blue gaze full of disdain. When she locked her disapproving stare on me I felt its full effect, and an uneasy feeling reached my gut.

  I took a sip of coffee, hoping she’d look away, but she was still glaring at me. I wondered what had made Arthur want to rile her up like that.

  With a weak smile, I said, “Break a leg.” It came out more like a question.

  “What show are you on?” she asked, noticing my scrubs.

  “Oh no...I’m a real nurse.”

  She raised her chin high. “I once wanted to be a nurse.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “But it’s such a dirty job.” She gave a defiant smile and stomped off.

  I sucked the froth from my top lip. “Who is she?”

  Arthur crinkled his nose. “I’m afraid you had the displeasure of meeting Sarah Thompson.”

  “She’s probably hungry,” I said, fully aware of the stresses actresses were under to stay skinny, and remembering what Ellie had told me about cameras adding at least fifteen pounds.

  “No excuse for rudeness,” Arthur said. “Watch out for that one.”

  “The dirtiest job is doing a necropsy on a whale,” I said, thinking aloud. “Saw it on Animal Planet’s Monsters of the Deep. This scientist was pulling entrails out of a dead whale stranded on a beach, and he was retching away.” I swept my hand through the air, remembering his tenacity. “And yet he remained determined to finish the job, yanking away on those guts like he was going after lost treasure. It was quite something.” I pulled a face.

  Arthur smiled at me.

  “Apparently you can tell a lot about an animal’s lifestyle from what it’s eaten,” I added.

  He leaned back. “I’m more of a black and white movie buff.”

  My mind wandered to those fond days of the silver screen. I’d watched those films as a child with my parents. All three of us would curl up on the sofa, warming our hands around mugs filled to the brim with hot chocolate, while we enjoyed the innocence of old Hollywood’s storytelling.

  “Who’s Elizabeth?” I asked.

  “Sorry?”

  “You mentioned the name Elizabeth?”

  He took a sip. “Elizabeth Taylor.”

  I studied him to see if he was joking.

  He raised a long, pointed finger. “Our beloved, late Dame Elizabeth Taylor.”

  “You knew Elizabeth Taylor?”

  “If you work here for any length of time, you get to know people.”

  “What was she like? I mean really?”

  “She was funny and kind. A lady who knew how to put people at ease.” He looked thoughtful. “She had the most beautiful violet eyes.”

  “Oh, I wish I’d gotten the chance to meet her.” I gazed off down the paseo, marveling that I’d met someone who’d known such a legend.

  “Well if you’re lucky you might get a glimpse of our current heartthrob.” Arthur leaned back and glanced over at me. “Resident Hero is shooting at Gemstone. They have another two weeks left.”

  “What’s that about?”

  “A dashing marine who’s through with his tour of duty in the Middle East realizes he’s done with combat and turns his talents to medicine.” Arthur shook his head. “In 3D of course.”

  “Sounds intriguing. Who’s starring in that?”

  “George Clooney.”

  The coffee cup jerked in my hand.

  “Looks like you’re a fan, Piper,” he said. “More than likely you’re going to bump into him at some point.”

  “Oh no...I mean, I admire his work but--”

  “You know what I’m going to do for you? Arrange for him to visit you.”

  “God no! I mean, I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

  “It’d be my pleasure.”

  “I’m the type who doesn’t get caught up in all that stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  “Celebrity obsession.”

  “Who said anything about obsession?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Best let the actors do their thing without interruption. Same with us health care professionals. Just doing our... thing. Saving lives and keeping celebrities at arm’s length. Much safer for both of us.”

  “Both of us?” said Arthur.

  “This is a pretty fantastic opportunity for me and I don’t want to blow it.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “It’s been such a pleasure meeting you, Arthur.” I stood up.

  “Pleasures all mine, Piper. I wish you all the luck in the world on your first day.”

  “Thank you.” I scrutinized the map and strolled off.

  “Actually,” Arthur called after me.”It’s that way.” He pointed east.

  I turned around and headed in the direction he was pointing and waved goodbye, walking off down the paseo.

  “You’re going to love it here,” Arthur called out after me.

  I had a wonderful feeling that he might be right.

  CHAPTER 3

  Resident Hero - Day 48 OF 60

  Call Time: 11:00 am

  Shooting Call: 11:45 am

  Weather: Sunny

  Location: Stage 9

  As I took the few short steps up toward Gemstone’s medical department, I reassured myself that bumping into George Clooney was a one in a million chance.

  Though trillion sounded better.

  I wondered if he’d even recognize me as the girl from the store who’d filled her basket chock full of Clooney products like a crazed fan. I’d been so fazed at the time I’d not had the courage to tell him none of the items were for me. Though the chance of him even believing a girl with wayward hair and wearing bunny slippers was pretty low.

  My key objective, which had originally been to excel as a studio nurse, had now been upgraded to avoiding the set of Resident Hero for the duration of their time here.

  Shouldn’t be too hard, I reasoned. After all, what cast and crew numbered in the hundreds who used dangerous equipment and performed death defying stunts had ever needed the use of medical personnel?

  My blood pressure spiked and I steadied myself as I headed into the medical department. The chill of the air-conditioning hit me.

  Sitting behind the front reception desk was a young, dark haired man wearing a shiny plaid shirt. He was staring down, engrossed in the pages of a magazine.

  Hanging on the wall behind him was a black and white photo of two nurses, and they were posing outside this very building. They both wore 1950s uniforms with starched linen hats, their dresses hemmed low. They smiled at the camera, though could have been
smiling at me.

  I was following in their footsteps.

  “Hey there, I’m Piper,” I said at last.

  “Appalling.” He looked up at me.

  There was an awkward silence.

  He held up the magazine and showed me the center page. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

  I looked at the photograph of the young singer Brianna Travers. She’d been captured by the paparazzi climbing out of the back of a limousine, wearing a short, pale pink cocktail dress. During her ungraceful, and quite possibly tipsy exit, the camera had caught a glimpse of her panties.

  I felt for her, wondering what it must be like to wake up the next day and be faced with the evidence of a momentary lapse in judgment splashed on the center page of a major magazine.

  “Well?” He pushed me for a response.

  “I’m embarrassed for her.”

  “I know, right. Those are last season’s Prada!” He pointed to her shoes. “Cardinal rule: never, never do last season.”

  I wanted to ask if he was for real, but as he kept his critical gaze locked on the singer’s shoes I realized he was.

  “What was she thinking?” he said. “At least the dress is new.”

  “Who’d choose to be in the public eye?” I sighed. “All that vulnerability.”

  “All that money.” He gave a crooked smile.

  “I’m the new nurse. Piper Day.”

  “Hey there.” He studied me through a narrow gaze. “Where you from?”

  “Madison, Wisconsin.”

  “I’m Adam.” He closed the magazine. “I’m the administrative assistant.” He lowered his voice. “Only do this job to pay the bills.” He pressed his fingertip to his lips in a hushed gesture. “Don’t let the boss know that.”

  “I promise.”

  “Hey there, Piper!” came a female voice from the doorway.

  I turned to see my new boss, Natalie.

  She was smiling at Adam with affection. “Have you welcomed our new nurse?”

  “He has,” I said.

  Natalie stepped farther into the reception. “Adam’s studying to be a fashion designer at community college in the evenings.”

  Adam beamed a smile and tugged on his shirt. “I made this.”

  “Wow,” I said, unsure what else to say about the bright yellow and green stripes.